The Patron

by David Maris

I’m attracted to waitresses. I love their outfits and the cleanliness of their hands. They ask me what I’d like to have, and I tell them, and they smile and get it for me. I discreetly stare at their asses. They lightly touch my shoulder and laugh at my jokes. They say goodbye when I leave, which creates an illusion of affection, which gets me through the rest of my day.


David Maris may be sitting at the next table.